Things Have a Way
by CalliopeConfetti
Summary: In school, he had noticed her at meal times and in the halls; it was impossible not to notice her, really. Even now, atop her pale blonde hair, she wore a silver circlet with a crystal pendant charm sparkling on her forehead and earrings made of what looked like beetle wings. He found her mildly enchanting and her eyes reminded him of the reflection of a winter sky in ice.
1. Luna Landing

**I. Luna Landing  
**

 _By: Calliope Confetti_

 _Hogwarts, May of 1974_

With his head heavy with thoughts of Lily, Severus slipped out of bed and donned a light jacket over his nightclothes, before managing to exit the castle undetected and venture out into the night. He had integrated these regular night walks into his routine, motivated by unrelenting insomnia, unable to lie awake in his bed, tossing and turning through yet another sleepless night. For reasons he failed to understand, Lily had been drifting further away from him all year, which left him replaying their every interaction in his head, struggling to pin down where it all went wrong. These night walks assuaged some of his anxiety; the forest stimulated his senses and carried him back to the present, keeping him from obsessing over the past, at least temporarily.

The thin crescent moon hid behind the clouds, shrouding the grounds in darkness, leaving him walking blindly in the Stygian night, so he withdrew his wand and proceeded through the labyrinth of trees with "Lumos" lighting the way. He breathed in the pollen-fresh, moss-rich air of spring-time and listened to the crickets' chorus, both of which calmed him and banished some of the more troubling thoughts from his mind.

When reached a familiar clearing, he watched his steps to avoid tromping through the budding bluebells until he finally reached a well-worn path of flattened grass and leaves; he sighed and surveyed his surroundings, freezing when he saw a white glow amid the trees on the far side of the field. Wary of approaching the mysterious light, he craned his neck and stood on his toes, trying in vain to get a better look.

In all his walks, he'd never seen such a strange thing, and after a few minutes had ticked by, curiosity overcame caution and bade him to discover the light's source. On light feet, he moved in that direction, unaware of the bluebells being squashed under his boots. From a few yards away, he could make out the silhouette of a person sitting on the ground. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and his instincts urged him to abandon the mission, but whatever the person was doing, it didn't seem nefarious, so against his better judgment, he called out to the figure in the dark. "Hello…?"

A female figure, discernible by her waist-length hair and feminine dress, stood and brushed off her skirt before walking towards him. Oddly, his presence didn't startle her; on the contrary, she welcomed him as if she'd been waiting for him all the while. Her skin, white as a sheet, glowed pale as a specter—if not for her bright clothes, she could pass for a ghost, which would have taken their meeting from weird to otherworldly.

"Hello, Severus," she greeted him by name while he struggled to remember hers. "Vale…?" he guessed with upward inflection.

"Close, my name is Pandora, but you can call me 'Vale,' it's my surname so it suits me just the same."

In school, he had noticed her at meal times and in the halls; it was impossible not to notice her, really. Even now, atop her pale blonde hair, she wore a silver circlet with a crystal pendant charm sparkling on her forehead and earrings made of what looked like beetle wings. Although he found her mildly enchanting and her eyes reminded him of the reflection of a winter sky in ice, they mostly disquieted him and lent an eerie air to an already strange encounter. She stared at him with wide eyes, framed by doll-like lashes that made them appear even wider, giving her a look of perpetual surprise.

When Severus failed to take his turn to speak, she smiled and moved back to her original position, sitting on the grass, returning to task as if he had never interrupted her. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked blithely, since they had seemingly made it past the pleasantries.

"Oh, I'm waiting for the Lunas to arrive," she replied, speaking as if her answer were crystal clear instead of incredibly cryptic.

"Beg pardon?" he asked.

" _Actias Luna,_ " she replied, before she seemed to notice his blank stare, with his eyebrows traveling further up his forehead with her every word. "Luna moths," she clarified, jumping up to show him her setup, a fairly primitive one. She'd strung a clothesline between two trees to hang the sheet—her bed-sheet, she informed him, even though he didn't ask—which she then pulled back to reveal the hand-held flames dancing in a glass jar, providing her illumination.

"Ah." he paired his staccato reply with a lift of the chin, finally following what she was saying, although he remained generally perplexed.

"A budding lepidopterist, are you?" he asked with a smirk.

"No, I don't pin them and put them under glass. That's cruel. I like to observe them in nature, doing the things moths do," she explained.

Because she came across as so sincere, he clenched his teeth against the sarcasm longing to make an appearance. "Have you seen any tonight?" he managed.

"Yes, one earlier, but she flew away after a time. They like this time, in the early morning." Her talk of time reminded him of the fact that he was outside after hours, with the clock tower's hands nearing three in the morning.

Even though she wore a short skirt, she sat with her legs crossed in an unselfconscious, distinctly un-ladylike way, before grabbing her sketchbook from her schoolbag. "See, I started drawing her." She held her sketchbook over the bottom half of her face, so that only her haunting eyes could be seen above its wire rings. Although he was unsure of what exactly he'd expected, her work surprised him—while he mostly thought he'd be met with a page of amorphous scribbling, she'd drawn the outline and used colored pencils to fill in one of its wings so realistically that it looked like it could fly off the page as soon as she finished the other.

"Very good." Her undeniable talent earned her a rare but forced acknowledgement from him. "Are you going to finish it when the next one comes along?" he asked curiously.

"No," she said simply, "I will start over. I like to capture their individuality."

As he progressed through his mental menagerie, he couldn't—for the life of him—think of another creature that rivaled the perfect symmetry and the painstaking uniformity of a butterfly or a moth; it was as if they'd all been cut by nature's Ellison machine. In spite of this, he refrained from further comment.

"Well," he sighed, altogether vexed by their meeting, "I'd best be getting back to the castle. Good luck to you."

"Don't you want to see one, Severus?" The earnestness of her inquiry gave him pause, but he declined, "Your drawing will suffice. Good night."

She flashed him a smile, her prominent lips so pale they looked bloodless. "Wait!" she cried, waving her arms like she was attempting to flag down an aircraft.

He stopped mid-step and his shoulders slumped as he sighed again and, for reasons he couldn't articulate, he returned to the glowing sheet and the glowing girl.

"Look," she grabbed his arm and pointed towards the sheet. A Luna had landed. The fire created an ethereal back-light effect, lighting up the moth so that it glowed luminescent green, sparkling like peridot, like the sun shining through a panel of stained glass. The moth opened and closed its wings before it finally stilled, splaying them like a paper fan, showing off its delicate markings.

"He is stretching his wings," Vale informed him, even though her commentary seemed rather self-explanatory to him. Curiously, she still held onto his arm, and he also wondered how she'd determined the moth's gender with such confidence.

Begrudgingly, he finally admitted to himself that the experience was worthwhile, while the moth sat poised with a grace and an elusive light that film and canvas cannot capture. Vale stared at it excitedly, with child-like wonder, like she was experiencing the sight for the first time. Suddenly, she let go of his arm and plopped back onto the ground to set to work on her next sketch, her pencil moving deftly about the page.

With her engrossed in her drawing, Severus realized one could only stare so long at a moth; he'd already stared at it so long it broke the bounds of normalcy, so he shook himself and turned on his heel to walk away.

"Goodbye, Severus," she bade him farewell, and he held up his hand in a curt wave, without pausing or turning around, as he pressed onward, back to the castle. When he reached the portcullis, he entered quietly, attempting to evade Filch, who muttered to himself as he stood on a ladder, cleaning a light fixture. A sleeping Mrs. Norris yawned and stretched her paws before curling back into a ball of sleep, opening one eye at him before deciding he wasn't worth it. As he descended the staircase en route to the dungeons, he had a fleeting thought that made him laugh under his breath— _is there a Mr. Norris?_ He slipped easily past Professor Slughorn, chuckling when he saw him slumped against the stone wall, sleeping upright, sounding like a sleeping dragon as the roar of his snores filled the quiet corridor.

After admonishing him for his blatant disregard of curfew, the subject of the Slytherin portrait prompted him for the password. Severus spat, "Ouroboros," forcing his way past the portrait before it had even fully opened to allow him passage. When he finally fell into bed, he entered a dreamland forest, where Luna Moths clung trees instead of leaves, numbering in the thousands, all of their markings replaced by a haunting set of wide eyes, and when he woke up, he couldn't pin down whether he'd categorize it as a simple dream or a nightmare.


	2. The Fat Lady Sings

**II. The Fat Lady Sings**

 _By: Calliope Confetti  
_

The next morning, he sat down to his plate of oatmeal and buttered toast, preferring the muggle food he was accustomed too. Lucius droned on about his defensive strategy for the upcoming Quidditch match, while Narcissa feigned interest as she applied her red lipstick in a compact mirror. Across the great hall, he saw James whispering in Lily's ear, his hand on her thigh; her giggle echoed through the hall as he watched James move in for a kiss, an act that made his stomach drop and put him off his breakfast; he shoved his tray away. Like a masochistic voyeur, he kept his eyes trained on the new couple until every little affectionate gesture compounded, leaving him with a painful lump rising in his throat. He found the scene duplicitously agonizing and arousing—he found some vicarious enjoyment in observing them, just to see her like that, her lips red, her face flushed as she sat breathless and riled.

"Hello Severus," he heard the distinct voice of Vale, a voice like a glass chime. To his chagrin, she sat down next to him, either ignorant of or deliberately ignoring the exclusivity of the Slytherin table, which was reserved strictly for members of his house; it wasn't a rule in the binding sense, it was an unspoken one enforced by the brutes among them (and Lucius). Severus kneaded his brow as she started on her breakfast; he noticed that she'd selected the more exotic and magical foods among the vegetarian options.

For a moment, he wondered if she'd slept at all after the Luna landing, although it was impossible to tell with those eyes, which appeared wide-awake regardless. She reached into the bag she'd slung over her shoulder and withdrew her sketchbook, displaying her latest work—of the male moth he'd witnessed—and although she'd drawn it in immaculate detail, he couldn't discern the differences between the second sketch and the first one she'd shown him, except that she'd completed the second. Mortified by her presence, he simply nodded and kept kneading his brow in the hope that she would catch on to the fact that she wasn't wanted, since his table-mates seemed oblivious to the presence of the interloper.

The unflappable girl simply smiled and switched out her sketchbook for a paranormal newsletter that she proceeded to read over her breakfast. Although he put it down to cognitive bias, he began seeing the girl everywhere—he'd never noticed her in his Divination class, even though Cassandra Trelawney considered her a pet favorite, since she helped the dotty professor polish crystal balls and wash the teacups after Tasseography class.

After only one chance meeting, she seemed over-eager to pin him with the "friend" label, _even though she's averse to doing the same to moths,_ he noted with a wry smirk. The antithesis of her, he kept himself guarded and his surly disposition rendered him inherently difficult to befriend; he summoned his ire as an offensive measure, wise to the fact that his tormentors had employed the "friend" tactic many times before. In the past, the Marauders had bribed other students to befriend Severus in order to gain more information, providing them with more ammunition to add to their creatively lacking arsenal of insults.

* * *

When he reflected upon that fateful day at the lake, he later realized that Vale had been among the onlookers, although she simply sat on the shore, absorbed in a book, unaware of the paradigm shift occurring only yards away, when he made his biggest mistake, the one that shattered all, the one that no apology could mend; the word—the kill shot—that sent it all crashing down around him. That same night, he knowingly left his dignity in the dungeons when he made the decision to march up to Gryffindor tower.

When he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he was in no mood for her games. She unknowingly provoked him when she sang the directive in soprano, "Password!" ending on a note that could break glass.

"Let me in, or so help me I will take paint thinner to you faster than you can hit another sharp," he snarled as he thrust his finger in her face. Predictably, she shrieked and fled to another frame, arms akimbo, flinging insults as she went—only ones that her weak constitution could handle, anyway.

"What a rude young man!" she scoffed at his audacity, furiously fanning herself. She hogged Sir Cadagan's frame, and the knight glared at Severus through the eye slot in his steel helmet. Severus stood outside the door, pacing and occasionally lunging in the direction of the Fat Lady to frighten her again and send her hopping portraits, running through scenes she had no business being in, much to the annoyance of their subjects.

Finally, he heard footsteps as someone ascended the stairs, and he spotted one of Lily's friends, Mary Macdonald, approaching the door to the tower. The doe-eyed girl appeared quite skittish, her brown wispy curls falling carelessly across her face, and Severus knew why. A few weeks ago he had perfected his sectumsempra curse and, in his excitement, recklessly shared it with to Lucius, who informed some of his more disreputable friends, leaving a few Death Eaters raring to test it on a live victim—selecting Mary, whose taciturn disposition made her perfect prey.

"Mary," he grabbed her shoulder and she whirled around, wand in hand and a curse chambered on her lips; she hadn't noticed him lurking on the stair.

"Jesus, you shouldn't sneak up on people!" she said, her thick Scottish accent clotting her words.

"I need you to tell Lily I'm out here—that I need to speak with her. It is imperative that I speak to her," he insisted, repeating his entreaty several times, pacing and gesturing wildly, with his disheveled hair sticking to his sweat-drenched face.

"She doesn't want to talk to you, Severus," Mary admitted, cowing to him; she feared an outburst, still rattled by the earlier assault she'd suffered at the wands of Death Eaters—he noticed the fresh sectumsempra slashes marring her willowy arms, some held closed by stitches.

Railing at Mary had left him he nearly out of breath, so he panted further instructions to the frightened girl, "Tell her, if she refuses to hear what I have to say, I will stay here all night—I will sleep at the threshold if I must, so when she leaves for class tomorrow, I will have my time with her."

Caught between the castle stones and a crazed young man drawing a hard line, she darted her brown eyes every which way, looking beseechingly for backup, but none came. She finally sighed and bent to his will. "I'll tell her, but I warn you, she's not coming out."

"Then tell her I will see her in the morning. If she walks past me, I will shout it across the great hall. She cannot avoid me forever."

Mary's eyes widened at his desperation, and she knew he meant every unhinged word of it, so she nodded and simply said, "Alright." When she turned to say the password, her breath caught midway, when she realized that only the background of the Fat Lady's portrait remained, sans one rubenesque broad. "Where's the fat lady?" Mary asked, perplexed.

"On safari," he answered with an impish smirk, pointing to Saharan scene where the Lady hid herself behind a wildebeest, which he found perfectly appropriate.

* * *

It seemed like he'd misjudged the timing of his "mea culpa," since Mary was the last one to enter the common room, the rest of the girls were already in for the night. After hours of pacing by the door, he slumped against the stone wall with a heavy sigh, rehearsing what he planned to say to Lily.

Finally, he heard footsteps just beyond the painting barring his entry, and his heartbeat thrummed hard in his chest as he awaited the reveal of the Gryffindor behind the door. When Lily stepped over the threshold, she loomed over him as he crawled to his knees, overjoyed to see her even under the circumstances. "I'm sorry—," he began, hands clasped together, pleading.

The green eyes that once held such warmth for him were now totally devoid of it. "Save it," she snapped, bristling. For a little while, she coldly listened to him offer his remorse, pleading for atonement as he knelt at her feet like a supplicant, until she decided she'd had her fill of his groveling, so she turned to leave.

"Wait!" he cried. "What about James Potter?!" he barked as he rose up to meet her, his nostrils flaring as penitence gave way to pure fury.

"What about him?!" she roared, throwing up her hands.

"What about what he's done to me Lily?" He cried, his voice breaking in his hysterical state. "The degradation, attacks and public shaming?!" he raved, his voice hoarse from shouting. "Attacking me four-to-one?!" he snarled. "He's treated me with far more malice than I meant to inflict with that one stupid slur!" As soon as the last two words left his mouth, he realized that there was nothing worse he could've said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way, I simply meant…" he began, but Lily interjected.

"Just shut it!" she shouted, seemingly fed up with his justifications. She took one last look at the broken boy, still shaking and frantically pleading, staring her with a distressing intensity resembling insanity. She scoffed at him and shouted the password at the Fat Lady who had intruded on "The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicholas Tulp," trilling away to the Dutchmen around the slab and shooting hateful glances at Severus. Once the painting allowed Lily access, she marched through the door, leaving Severus fighting the urge to cling to the trailing tail of her robe to keep her from retreating.

When the portrait slammed closed over the entrance to the tower, the noise echoed in his spinning head with a harrowing ring of finality—this time, no matter how contrite he felt, no matter how deeply he regretted his remark, no matter how many apologies he leveled at her feet, he had destroyed their friendship beyond repair. She was done.

This realization had him doubled-over, leaning forward until his nose nearly grazed the floor, slamming his fists against the hard stone until they felt tender and bruised—he hoped the pain would hold back the tears that threatened to well at the corners of his eyes. The coping mechanism had been ingrained in him by his abusive father—with his father, if he screamed or cried in pain, the abuse would escalate, so he had conditioned himself to dam his tears through exposure to pain. Wordlessly, he conjured flames and held his palm above the fire until he felt the flashing sensation of a burn, doing this a few times before his wand finally dropped from his burned and trembling hands. With his back against the wall, he threw his head back, panting and stifling sobs.

There had to be some combination of words that would make her understand—an explanation that would lead her to forgive him, to stay his friend. But even if, by some miracle, he found them, she'd never consent to being his captive audience again, a thought that left him hopelessly spiraling into despair.


	3. Go Ask Alice

**III. Go Ask Alice**

 _By: Calliope Confetti_

Lily had thoroughly eviscerated him, yet he remained on the landing, gutted, desultory and livid in turn. In another moment of doubled-over agony, he heard meandering footsteps that paused near him; when the person tentatively approached him, all he saw was a pair of penny loafers with mismatched socks. Vale knelt down and offered him her hand, but he shoved it away. Not to be deterred, she tried again, and for lack of better options, he took her hand and rose to his feet. Admittedly, he didn't want to lie there all night and risk James seeing him in such a state, and his legs felt as disgustingly weak as the rest of him. He waited for her to say something so he could respond back with his own litany of justifications, but all she said was, "Come with me."

Again, she took him by the hand and then led him down the shifting staircases until they reached the kitchens, where she addressed a house-elf by name and murmured something to her that Severus couldn't hear, although he understood when the elf later returned with two mugs of hot chocolate, marshmallows and all.

Puzzled, he stared at her offering as she sipped at hers. "Why did you bring me down here?" he demanded to know, exasperation straining his voice.

"Well, when I came to find you…" she began.

"Came to find me?" he interrupted, supposing she'd just happened upon him.

She elaborated, "The other Ravenclaws were talking about the batty boy on the stairwell, so I came to find you. I thought I could cheer you up."

The thought of the other students gossiping about him and giving him such an epithet made him feel sick, and he pushed the mug away with a plaintive groan. She held her mug with both hands, tapping her fingers, her Celtic rings clinking against the ceramic. When he noticed that the rest of her otherwise ring-less figures were tied with bits of colored yarn, he wanted to ask about her about it, although he knew better—no one could predict whether the answer would even make sense to anyone but her. When she noticed his eyes trained on her hands, she explained, "I'm forgetful. The different colors help me remember."

For a moment, he wondered if her mug contained fire-whiskey or some other intoxicant, rather than what she purported to be an innocent mug of hot cocoa. Since he felt apathetic towards her anyway, he gave voice to his thoughts, "You seem a bit mad."

"'We're all a little mad down here,'" she repeated the quote with down-turned eyes and a shy smile. None of his barbs seemed to catch; nothing seemed to rile her, unlike Lily whose irascible behavior left him feeling like the entire floor was lava. Eventually, he reached for his mug and accepted her token of kindness, even though it had cooled by then.

"I understand," she stated without prelude, covering his cold and clammy hand with her own, still warm from holding her mug. She finally clarified, saying, "It's hard when they don't like us too." Still baffled, he stared blankly at her. "I like Lucius," she admitted finally. _A great many girls like Lucius._ Severus thought, rolling his eyes.

He met her revelation with a sneer. "The rumor is that you favor Narcissa," he shot back, bristling at her and her assumptions of him. She'd transferred from Beauxbatons that fall—reportedly an involuntary transfer—quietly dismissed for having a crush on another girl.

With the glow of the hearth at her back, Vale closed her eyes, smile never wavering, and shook her head, "Love and sexuality are fluid, Severus, not a constant." For him, that statement seemed seriously suspect; in that moment, his brain refused to entertain the thought of him loving anyone else but Lily.

* * *

The next time she saw him wandering the corridors at night, Vale whisked him up to the astronomy tower to watch a meteor shower, which she observed from her seat between the parapets, where she dangled her legs off the edge. From her precarious perch, she marveled at the sweeping view of the grounds, while the very same view of the black night gave him vertigo and looked more like oblivion. Other nights, she sought him out for special stargazing—like in autumn, when the harvest moon rose bright and yellow in the sky. She'd made two pinhole cameras to watch the moon eclipse the sun, both of them marveling at the suns fiery corona blazing around the black. They observed comets whizzing by, and in the late evening, she dragged him up to look upon the red dot of Mars or the thin crescent of Venus among the other stars.

None of his usual routes were exempt from her spontaneous appearances. In the Forbidden Forest, he had encountered her bandying philosophical queries with the centaurs and petting the skeletal backs of the thestrals—although, until she taught him about the nature of the thestrals, he had been alarmed at the sight of her petting thin air, thinking she'd really lost it.

Through sheer forced proximity, he'd come to learn more about her than he ever wished to know. Her mother sang muggle folk songs and sent her records every month, while her father painted wizard portraits, also completing commissions for patrons of high esteem, even a former headmaster or two. Instead of the conventional pointed collar, she preferred to wear peter-pan collars under her robes. On their off days, she'd don drop-waist dresses and pleated skirts. She claimed to have distant Veela ancestry, but although her pale features were reminiscent of the Veela, she didn't have feather of harpy in her gentle soul. She spoke with a strange lilting cadence, placing emphasis on the wrong words. When he finally accepted the reality of their friendship, he still thought of her as the friendly ghost he couldn't shake.

* * *

One winter day, he accompanied her to the Owlery to help her pass out special owl treats she'd baked for the birds for Christmas, even though she owned a ferret instead of the quintessential wizard pet. She'd worn a pair of skeleton keys as earrings that day, and he hoped she hadn't pilfered her parents' house keys. The sun shone through the gaps in the rafters, falling in natural spotlights that warmed his skin. He knelt down to feed a Great Horned Owl reticent to exit his cage; Severus looked away for only a moment, when he felt her mitten-clad hand on his face, her thumb on his eyelid to examine the bruise darkening his eye. Ignoring her, he returned to feeding the owls with renewed interest, anything to keep from addressing the issue of his bruised face—the marauders did not appreciate how he spoke to Lily, a displeasure they communicated physically. She unexpectedly put her arms around him and leaned against his shoulder, her expression fraught with hurt and sadness; he allowed it with only a roll of the eyes, although he felt increasingly awkward until he wanted nothing more than to bolt. Sometimes, when he witnessed her displays of empathy, he thought it seemed like she felt others' pain as strongly as they did.

Christmas break arrived, leaving the school mostly deserted, save for a few members of the faculty and staff, who stayed behind to take advantage of the lucrative opportunity for holiday pay. The less privileged children also stayed behind, Severus among them. While Vale's parents, at least her father anyway, were well off, they'd decided to travel to America on holiday, and she chose to remain at Hogwarts for the duration of their getaway.

With the usual restrictions lifted to give the less fortunate children a sense of freedom and normalcy, she managed to sneak him into the Ravenclaw common room, where they huddled by the fireplace, listening to the wireless over tea. The starry sky-scape shifting overhead held his interest, and he moved his wand between the stars to connect them with lines, outlining several constellations. When Vale noticed and looked up, her eyes glittered with the reflection of the stars, and she leaned back against him, using her wand to bring his lines into being with zodiac images that came to life. He silently admired her wand-work as she tilted her head back to look at him.

Maybe it was her earlier affectionate gesture—that he didn't know how to take at the time—or maybe it was the heat of the fire and her body pressed against his, but whatever it was, he made an awkward attempt to kiss her, missing her mouth and instead planting a kiss on her doll-like nose, before apologizing profusely. She silenced him with her lips against his in a proper kiss. The kisses were long and languid as she guided his inexperienced mouth. The fact that his next thought didn't make him feel the least bit ashamed plagued him in the coming years, but at that time, he thought she could be great practice if he ever got the chance to lie with Lily; Lily seemed to fancy the more experienced boys in school, like James Potter. Once he closed his eyes, he imagined Lily's lips, imagined that Lily's hands were running through his hair and his through hers. Vale broke the kiss and grasped his wrist and led him up to her dormitory.

When Vale undressed for him, he recognized the fact that she possessed an undeniable waifish beauty, attractive from her delicate ankles to that silly circlet she continued to wear on her head; if she realized her beauty, she would be out of his league by a laughable margin. When his tentative hands roamed her body, he touched Lily's breasts, not hers, and in his mind, when he pulled her lacy knickers over her hips, they belonged to Lily. In turn, he imagined Lily's hands on his belt, her inexperienced hand stroking his length. And when he moved on top of her, he pushed himself inside of her and imagined Lily arching beneath him, her nails raking his back; he stifled his groans into long red hair instead of pale blond, and green-eyes fluttered under his touch. The act felt quick and passionless, and when he came he refused to open his eyes and shatter the illusion, even as Vale held him against her warn breast and gently caressed his face, even when she saw his eyes closed so emphatically.

He turned away from her to lie on his side. Before he fell asleep, he heard her getting ready for bed, the clink of her winged earrings being set on the armoire, the rustle of her changing into nightclothes, and finally the click of the bedside lamp going out. When he awoke a few hours later, he panicked to find himself in an unfamiliar bed and attempted to ascertain where he was, and when he realized it, his throat tightened with regret. Slipping out of bed, he gathered his clothes, quickly and quietly dressing in the dark before exiting the dormitory.

As he booked it down to the dungeons, the tag of his shirt began to irritate his chest and he realized he'd put it on backwards. The Slytherin common room, usually far from welcoming, felt like home; the hum of the Edison bulbs strung overhead calmed him, although the green glow of the stained glass windows—like the back-lit wings of a Luna moth—discomfited him once more. The familiar damp of the dungeon and the glow of the dying fire dancing on the adjacent stones brought him back around; he even found himself appreciating the clinical leather furniture he otherwise detested.

When he found his bed, he crawled beneath the covers and re-imagined his night with "Lily," gripping himself in the familiar nightly ritual, until he groaned into his pillow and nearly cried with shame. The following day, he ignored Vale, until she cheerfully approached him, and he realized that she was just as unlikely to broach that uncomfortable topic in conversation. Still, that night when she extended to him another invitation to join her in her room, he accepted and followed in her wake as she once again led him to her dormitory. That night, he tried to keep himself from disassociating, striving to remain in the moment, reminding himself to give her more attention, until he shuddered over her, his release causing the instant guilt to overcome him again, but that night, when he awoke cold and alone on his side of her bunk, he pulled her warm body flush against him and nuzzled her hair for comfort, inhaling the lovely scent of rosewater on her long locks.

Eventually, he left his eyes open and let his body respond naturally to her beauty and her budding sexuality instead of imagined scenarios with Lily, although each time afterward, when his desire had waned, it felt just as empty and hollow to him. One evening at sunset on the shores of the lake, he and Vale were taking turns practicing legillimency; when he attempted to penetrate her mind, he was met with a Technicolor blur, her thoughts so abstract he couldn't pin a single one down or distinguish it from the others.

When he brought himself back to his own mind, Severus saw Lily and her friends approaching. Suddenly, he grabbed an oblivious Vale, dipped her and kissed her with gusto before looking to see if Lily had been privy to their tender moment, while Vale stood, awestruck with her fingers drawn to her lips. Later he pressed her for details, "Did she see us, at the lake?"

"We were a little difficult to miss," she answered, and for once, a sadness all her own crept into her tone.

* * *

Assuming the girl was as suggestible as she seemed, Sirius not-so-subtly tried to coax her away from Severus's bed into his. She shocked everyone when she replied, "No wonder your mother named you after the Dog Star." The lack of malice in her tone and that same unusual cadence stung Sirius more than a conventional insult, since she made it sound like a neutral observation rather than a pointed comment. She was frequently subjected to bullying, although unknowingly, since she never realized she was a victim of it in the first place. The students had bestowed upon her a nickname as well, "Alice," because she so resembled the titular character. Many young wizards shouted at her when they passed her in the halls, mostly comments about how they'd love to "open Pandora's box."

In response, she'd often turn to Severus with the comment, "it was actually a jar, you know." Similar innuendos were thrown her way when she advocated for various causes, especially the time she handed out flyers petitioning for the legal protection of fire crabs, creatures prized and poached for their jewel-encrusted shells. When she received an abundance of one comment, it still didn't seem to bother her in that sense, but it piqued her curiosity; she simply asked Severus why everyone seemed so obsessed with asking her the same question she'd answered countless times before. He loathed tarnishing her innocent worldview by detailing the raunchy sexual nature of their insults and cat-calls, so he worked to come up with answers that satisfied her and also left her rosy lenses intact.


	4. Touch of Grey

**IV. Touch of Grey**

 _By: Calliope Confetti_

 _Hogwarts. May of 1975._

Vale had disarmed him, and in spite of himself, he'd begun to warm to her. It seemed all creatures succumbed to her quirky charms, and her gentle aura of kindness had even managed to touch Severus's cold heart. Although he felt protective and tender towards her, he still thought of Lily every night when he closed his eyes and dreamt only of her, and in the morning, he clung to the evanescent images that lingered in his mind until they faded in the way dreams are wont to do, leaving his heart heavy.

After exams, when most of the students had returned home for the summer and the restrictions barring boys from entering the girls' dormitory were lifted, Severus and Vale sat in her room, talking and listening to the latest record her mother had posted. Earlier that day, he'd watched Lily board the train; James had pressed her against a tree for a goodbye kiss, his knee planted between her thighs for all to see. Vale seemed to notice his stilted answers as he stared distractedly out the diamond-paned window, watching other students file onto to the train.

"Are you alright, Severus?" she asked softly. Something about those dream-grey eyes drew confessions from people who would otherwise not be inclined to give them.

"Why doesn't she want me? What is it about me that doesn't measure up to Potter? What does he have that I lack?" he implored, embarrassed for asking.

Vale put the feather of her quill to her lips and considered his question. "She did love you Severus, in her own way." Vale and Lily had also been friends before she cleaved herself to Severus; she now avoided Vale as avidly as she did him. "The way she spoke of you, I could hear it in her voice—there was love there. It simply wasn't the love you wanted," she replied airily.

"Platonic love is not enough," he stressed, throwing his hands up.

She twirled the quill between her fingers as she bowed her head in thought. "Well, Plato believed that platonic love was the purer love," she explained with a hopeful tone. She seemed eager to find an explanation that would prove comforting to him.

"Originally, platonic love included intimacy, if you recall," he countered sourly

"It is a love that transcends the physical; it's a spiritual love, where the object of affection inspires a person to greater things. That, to me, seems like a perfect sort of love, whether intimacy is involved or not," she answered with a shy smile and down-turned eyes, in her usual way.

Her reply silenced him as he ruminated over her words. Had Lily inspired him to greater things? So far, loving her had put him at a disadvantage that had set him back a few moves. Lily's eyes inspired him, her beauty inspired him, and he wanted to have her so badly, but it lacked the spiritual element Vale spoke of, which he couldn't quite reconcile with her definition of love. Vale's sentiment kept him lost in thought, until he heard the record scratch that signaled the start of the next track.

Resolving to come back to those thoughts at a later time, he moved to sit behind her on the sofa and wrapped his arms around her, perching his chin on her shoulder. "Now, who's this bloke?" he asked as he listened intently to the intro to the song.

"Gordon Lightfoot," she answered, with her pale lips in a broad smile as he moved her hair to one side to kiss her neck. "One of mum's favorites. He's a Canadian folksinger."

"I see," he said silkily, his breath caressing her neck. She turned to sit astride his lap as she began to sing along; her sultry singing voice sounded almost drugged, "…And she told me a riddle I'll never forget, and left with the answer I never found yet." She leaned against his forehead and kissed it softly, "'How long,' said she, 'Can a moment like this belong to someone? What's wrong, what is right, when to live or to die. We most almost be born…'" On the last line, she grazed his lips with hers, with a heavy-lidded expression that made it quite clear what was to come. Then, she engaged him in a languorous kiss that left him wanting to take her right then.

For some reason, Severus felt like this strange memory would never leave him, like the flashbulb memories that linger in the mind until one's dying day—her drugged voice and light kiss and the lyrics to the song that resonated in his mind and the feel of her small soft hands on his neck, with the palpably electric air between them. In that moment, he felt like he could learn to love her, and when they made love she took control, lacing her fingers with his as she moved over him, and this time, when he came he curled around her and his hand wandered between her thighs until she arched against him and whispered his name in that same drugged voice.

When her turn came to board the train, he embraced her, his lips brushing against her forehead, with the thought that he would actually miss her. She held his hand, "Write to me?" she asked brightly.

"I will," he answered, and she slowly let go of his hand, maintaining contact until her fingertips brushed his, and then she was gone.

* * *

Time passed slowly in the summer. Last year, he and Lily had spent the summer at the park and eating fish and chips at the restaurant on the corner, where she had insisted on paying for his meal, even though he'd scrimped and saved enough to treat her. They'd wandered around Cokeworth, having little adventures. He had spent time at the Evan's home, where her parents welcomed him like one of their own, and he felt like an alien in a strange land, where he saw a family full of love, so unlike his own. Now, he sat at the park alone and wandered Cokeworth by himself, but he spent most of his time holed up in his lonely house, with his hostile father and his browbeaten mother. When they weren't screaming or totally aloof, a hostile tension bristled between them with an air of oppression—at times, screaming seemed almost preferable.

To be productive, he practiced spells and perfected a few new curses he'd been working on—and the law couldn't touch him, since his mother was a witch, the ministry would be unable to tell which of them was using magic, although his mother had suppressed her magic at her husband's insistence, rendering her nearly a squib. True to his word, he wrote letters to Vale and used his meager allowance to purchase postage stamps.

When she sent him postcards from Europe, where her father's paintings were being exhibited in various galleries, he felt a twinge of envy at the sight of all the places he would likely never get to visit. Sometimes, they would exchange letters instead; he felt he had little to write about, but he detailed his boring summer to her anyway, careful to excise his thoughts on Lily from the final draft, although he couldn't entirely omit his depression. In the next letter, she urged him to look for silver linings, and in closing, she wrote, "'every silver lining has a touch of grey.'"

One day, his parents sent him to the store on an errand, and he took his time, enjoying the escape from home, no longer cooped up in his bedroom. He perused the shelves, before he noticed a carousel rack of postcards near the register. Most of the cards featured prints of the mill town, although he wondered who would want a postcard from such a dirty industrial town like Cokeworth. Another postcard caught his eye—on the front of it, a girl child with pale blonde hair, wearing a peter-pan collar, stared at him with overlarge eyes of blue, tears dripping from them and down her pale face—and he thought immediately of Vale; when he flipped it over, he realized it was a print of a painting by Margaret Keane, the artist famous for the "big eyes" on her caricatures. Severus smiled and used some of his parents' change to purchase it for her.

When he placed the postcard on his desk, he stared at it and wondered what to write; he felt uninspired and thought the postcard spoke for itself. Finally, he wrote on the back "reminded me of you" and went to the post office to mail it. On the return postcard, she gushed about how much she liked it, and he felt a foreign sense of satisfaction. Still, thoughts of Lily plagued him wherever he went. All their old haunts felt empty without her, especially the park where they had first met. He flipped through his Hogwarts' yearbooks, tenderly running his fingers over photos of her, relishing in the way the pictures moved to show her smile, especially one colored photo where he could see her green eyes shining from the page.

Distressingly, he'd begun to forget how her voice sounded, their little inside jokes, the way she laughed, the way she smelled. It felt like his memories were beginning to be ripped away from him, no matter how long and hard he held on. Some nights, he'd lay in bed and think of her, of the happy times they shared, hoping it would reinforce and strengthen the memories he held so dear. Other nights, he cried a little as the darker ones assaulted his mind with startling clarity, leaving him at the mercy of these intrusive memories. Still other nights, he concentrated on her beauty, those lips, those eyes, those slight curves, whispering her name as he brought himself to climax, after which reality showed itself again.

When August came, he packed his things ten days prior to his departure, so eager to return to school, where he could distract himself with studying, seeing his few friends, and of course, Vale, although in his mind, he'd elevated her from a mere distraction to a real person, who he cared for in his own way. At the platform, his mother bade him a neutral farewell and saw him off, his father wanting nothing to do with anything remotely magical. He peeked into various compartments, searching for Vale, but instead he stumbled upon Lily and James, snogging and steaming up the window.

When he found Vale, he knew she could sense that he was crestfallen, but she jumped up to hug him, and her happiness upon seeing him brightened his spirits, at least a little. And when she reached into her backpack to get something, he couldn't help but laugh when she held up a rock with drawn-on eyes, and when she exclaimed, "Can you believe muggles keep these as pets!?" she had him in stitches as he draped his arm around her and shook his head, happy to have his silver-eyed silver lining sitting next to him.


	5. The Forest for the Trees

**V. The Forest for the Trees**

 _By: Calliope Confetti_

No sooner had they stepped off the Hogwarts' platform than Vale had taken him by the hand and led him up through the castle and down a deserted corridor, pausing every few moments to stare at the stone wall, as if she were searching for something. Unable to resist, Severus whirled her around when she wasn't paying attention and pinned her up against the wall, his body pressed against hers with his thigh planted firmly between her legs, the way he'd seen James do with Lily. He wound his fingers through her hair and claimed her lips in a heavy kiss that seemed to catch her totally off-guard; her eyes widened when he kissed her, taken aback by his urgency, but she soon closed her eyes and, with delight, she surrendered to his amorous assault.

When he broke the kiss to catch his breath, his lips grazed her temple as he whispered, "I've missed you," with his voice rich with desire. She smiled like she couldn't help it, and he saw the blush that crept into her pale cheeks.

"You did?" she asked, the disbelief clear in her voice as she looked up at him with an unguarded look of awe.

His voice dropped into sotto voce, with a husky undertone, "Yes," before he caught her lips again. Suddenly, he startled at the sound of shifting stone, and he jumped back to see a doorway forming on the same wall he'd just pushed Vale against so eagerly.

"This is what I was looking for!" she exclaimed brightly, "I discovered it last year, but I didn't get the chance to show you. I didn't think you'd believe me unless you saw it with your own eyes," she admitted with her classic down-turned countenance and shy smile, the appearance of which he'd begun to look forward to lately.

Severus stared at the stone doorway with a peculiar mingling of confusion and curiosity. As always, curiosity won out. "What's inside it?"

"You'll see." She beamed, grabbing his hand with a forward jerk that sent him stumbling into the room after her.

"Look, Severus, isn't it magical?" she exclaimed with a sweeping gesture.

In the cavernous room, precarious-looking towering columns of items loomed high above them, a few of them swaying almost imperceptibly with an audible groan; the dust hung thick in the air, and a variety of animated or malfunctioning magical items joined together to produce a cacophony of sound.

"Let's explore," she said excitedly, motioning for him to follow. In the time he'd known her, he'd come to realize that she approached everything with same child-like wonder she'd displayed when she saw the luna moth on the fateful day of their meeting. Abandoned snitches shot through the air at random with a mechanical whir and a golden blur, with their wings moving like a hummingbird's.

As he rifled through a stack of old textbooks, he hoped to find the editions he'd need for the following year so he wouldn't have to ask his parents to buy them, a request his father usually scoffed at in refusal until his mother eventually managed to convince him to relent. He heard Vale gasp, and he dropped the book in his hands and darted to where she stood a few feet away.

"Can I sit on your shoulders? I can't reach it," she asked. He knelt down obediently and she threw her legs over his shoulders; he lifted her up, unsure which item she sought. Squinting against the lens-flare glare of the sun streaming through the windows, he saw her pluck something from the bust of a statue. She dismounted his shoulders and hopped down, excitedly examining the silver item she turned in her hands.

"A tiara?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Sort-of. It's called a diadem. It looks to me like a replica of the diadem of Ravenclaw, which is rumored to endow the wearer with great wisdom."

"Sounds like something I could use," he chuckled, noticing the center sapphire glinting even in the half-light.

She answered with a peal of laughter, "I don't know. Let's see." She stood on her tip toes to place it on his head.

Severus gave her an embarrassed half-smile, feeling ridiculous. "I think it suits you better," he said quietly, crowning her with it instead. She smiled, adjusting its position on her head. "Have you now been 'endowed with great wisdom?'" he mocked her playfully.

"Socrates stated he was wise because he admitted he knew nothing for certain," she said before pausing and pulling a face, "So, yes, I suppose."

Suddenly, her features darkened and she reached a trembling hand to her head to remove the diadem, before dropping it as if had burned her. She knelt down and carefully picked it up between her thumb and forefinger, and without explanation, she threw it like a discus until it landed on a dress form with a rattling clink. He studied her face, noticing curiously that she looked shaken. "What's wrong?" he asked, confused.

"Nothing…" she said softly, "It just felt wrong to wear it…evil, almost." While he wondered what could possibly be evil about a dime-store tiara, he didn't doubt her—he'd never seen her shaking like that.

"It's okay," he said, drawing her close to him. "It's gone now. You certainly saw to that," he chuckled lightly. She slowly returned to her normal sweet self, but she insisted they leave immediately, so they did.

* * *

One day at lunch, Vale read the newest edition of the paranormal newsletter she received every week, while Severus studied his arithmancy homework. Suddenly, he turned to her and asked her a question that had been bothering him for weeks, "What's a nice girl like you see in Lucius?" If allowed, she and Lucius could discuss magical artifacts for ages, but he could think of little else they had in common. Plus, Narcissa hated their little talks; she would often approach Lucius and place a protective hand on him, before glaring at Vale and leading him away, saying they had other things to attend to. Severus considered the uncanny similitude wizards seem to desire in a partner—maybe her reasoning had something to do with that? It was surely possible, but he doubted it.

Vale folded the newsletter and tapped her fingers on the table. "Well," she began, but strangely her words seemed to fail her. "I see a person with a good and loyal soul," she said finally, although her answer lacked the certainty she usually inflected in her words.

"He's my friend, so I can attest to the fact that assumption is patently false," he countered, hitting the table with his palm for effect.

"I have my reasons," she stated in a way that communicated to him that it was her final word on the subject. Her tone had taken on a sharp edge he'd never heard before, and he canted his head at her questioningly; he shrugged but accepted her answer without further inquiry, returning to his homework and his sandwich.

* * *

With the gender-specific restrictions back in place on the dormitories, they had to find creative locations to spend time together. One night she met him on the grounds and accompanied him into the Forbidden Forest. She brought along her bed sheet and a lantern in the hopes of seeing more moths. She also held her portable record player by the handle and had a Beatles album she wanted him to listen to tucked under one arm.

"Won't the music deter the moths?" Severus asked.

She thought about it. "No," she answered, pursing her lips as she considered it for another moment. "No, I think they like music." Since she was the apparent authority on moths, he just raised an eyebrow at her and took her word for it. When they reached the clearing, she threw her bed-sheet over the clothesline and placed the lantern between the fold.

Severus breathed in the crisp night air as he took his seat, lounging back on his elbows, and she sat down beside him, flashing him a shy smile. "It's a beautiful night," she remarked, looking up at the clear night sky, admiring the stars that sparkled with renewed clarity in the cool autumn air. She opened her portable record player and placed the vinyl album on its track, and soon music filled the air. After the first song ended, he leaned over to kiss her, a kiss that deepened with her every touch, until he broke away to kiss and nip at her neck. She gasped softly at the grazing of his teeth, throwing her head back to allow him more room to continue. The music barely registered in his brain, his desire for her reducing it to ambient noise.

"This song reminds me of you and Lily," she said cheerfully, seemingly unaware of the inappropriate timing of her comment. Lifting his head to look in her eyes, he told her honestly, "I don't want to think about Lily right now." Her eyes widened in a way he didn't think possible as she gaped at him, before positively beaming. She gripped his hair at the roots and pulled him down to kiss him with such delight he forgot how to breathe.

When she let go, he stared at her, swallowing thickly, "Where did that come from—?" he panted, but before he could finish, she silenced him with her lips again, kissing him with a longing that left him no longer requiring an answer. With a devious smile, she unzipped her jacket, wearing nothing beneath it, and he stared appraisingly at her small breasts, her nipples pert in the fall chill, before he lowered his head to take one in his mouth, her soft cries filling him with desire. They continued in an erotically elegant give-and-take until she cried out with her peak and he followed quickly in her wake with a groan of her name that he stifled by burying his face into her hair.

They exchanged languid kissed until their breathing finally slowed. When they sat up, Severus wrapped his cloak around her for warmth and tenderly plucked the leaves from her hair, which made her giggle lightly. "That was…" he breathed with an arch of the eyebrows that effectively finished his sentence for him. When he asked to hear the song she'd mentioned, she appeared a tad wounded that he'd brought it up again, but she played it for him nonetheless. "It's called 'For No One,'" she informed him, and he looked up, listening intently.

" _Your day breaks, your mind aches, and all her words of kindness linger on when she no longer needs you. And in her eyes, you see nothing, no sign of love behind the tears. Cry for no one—a love that should have lasted years…"_

Vale's observation had been correct, and Severus couldn't deny the similarities between his story and Mr. McCartney's, although he wished he didn't have to think about them at that moment. When the song ended, she lifted the needle to stop the record, the silence palpable between them. "Good call, Vale. I see what you mean," came his half-hearted acknowledgement..

Vale became withdrawn, seeming a little guilty for mentioning it in the first place. "She just didn't see you, Severus."

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously.

"She didn't see you," she repeated. "The real you—otherwise she would've never let you go the way she did, when you needed her most," she said, in attempt to explain her reasoning

"I'm aware of the futility of pretty, placating words, Vale. She didn't pick me apart any more brutally than I've done to myself," he replied with a heavy sigh, lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head.

"No," Vale protested. "I don't say things thoughtlessly. I believe it to be true," she asserted, and Severus had to admit she had a point—sometimes he thought she'd be the perfect companion for him, since she was almost as laconic as he was.

"And you see me?" he asked softly, his eyes gazing skyward. It wasn't the first time he'd feared that her silvery eyes were equipped with a special lens that could see past his animosity to the damaged soul within, which could affect venom in his speech yet rarely meant it truly.

"Yes, I do," she stated confidently, and while he believed her, it also terrified him.

She gave him back his cloak and re-donned her jacket as she stared pensively at the stars. "Some people simply can't see the forest for the trees," she stated, and he thought he may have heard a catch in her voice.

Standing up, he began to help her gather her things. "No moths tonight, I'm afraid," he said as he took the sheet down from the line.

She smiled, her cheerful demeanor returning, and he laughed softly when she said, "I guess they don't like music after all."


	6. An Indecent Proposal

**VI. An Indecent Proposal**

 _By: Calliope Confetti_

An idea brewed in Severus's mind. Determined to get over Lily, he'd come up with a wicked scheme in which Vale would play a vital part. With a permission slip from Slughorn, the library allowed him to check out "Moste Pontente Potions" from the restricted section. His prodigious aptitude for potions had earned him a position as Slughorn's assistant, taking inventory and completing the order form to purchase new ingredients each month—the benefit being a key to the storeroom, to use at his discretion. Somehow, he believed that Slughorn wouldn't be so trusting if he knew what Severus had planned. In the storeroom, he obtained the ingredients required for the highly difficult and advanced potion he planned to brew—lacewing flies, boomslang skin, and a horn of bicorn. On the night of the full moon, he snuck into the greenhouse to pick fluxweed, and he also clipped the bundles of knotgrass he needed.

Unfortunately, Slughorn's stores were low on leeches, and if he noticed them missing, Severus may have had to answer some tough questions, so one evening, he waded reluctantly into the black lake. He wore rolled up jeans so he could watch for the patches of blood to appear on his clothing, the sure sign of a leech feeding on its host. When his stomach began to turn and he thought he'd acquired enough of the slimy suckers, he stepped out and pulled each leech from his flesh and into a pail he'd brought along, blood dripping down his legs.

Vale introducing him to the room of requirement had proven most opportune, he realized, as he lugged his pewter cauldron to that same upstairs corridor, willing the room to appear. When it did, he found a hidden corner to begin the first real step in his illicit plan. _"Ignus cineribus alitur suis,"_ he performed the everlasting fire enchantment, which he'd modified for his purpose, so that the flames could only be extinguished by the caster of the spell. Over the fire, he set up his cauldron and began to stew the lacewing flies; this initial process took about one month to complete, so all he could do was wait.

* * *

It seemed everyone was eager to label them as a couple. When the other students saw them walking together in the halls or studying on the grounds, Severus saw them pointing and overheard the whispers and quickly tired of their inane giggling.

Vale often climbed trees in the gloaming to sit and read the philosopher or poet of the hour, and she convinced him to join her one day. As he clambered up the trunk of an oak tree, he noticed a group of girls laughing behind their hands and gesturing in their direction. When he reached a branch adjacent to the one on which Vale sat, he caught his breath before making the comment, "Everyone thinks we're together."

After she dog-eared the page she'd been reading, she turned to him with an understanding smile. "Don't worry Severus, the only labels that matter are the ones we apply ourselves," she replied, before returning to her reading.

For a few moments, he perused "Moste Potente Potions," then, without looking up, he asked her, "What do you think?"

She closed the book in her lap and gave him a quizzical head tilt. "What do I think?" she repeated, seemingly baffled by his question.

"About labels…I mean…what is this?" he inquired, gesturing between them. His earnestness seemed to give her pause, as she held her hand against her lips in thought.

"By all appearances, it seems we are together. We do the things other couples do…I would not be averse to saying we're together," she admitted as she shyly looked down and twiddled her fingers with a twitch of a smile, her cheeks taking on a rosy color.

They each seemed temporarily unable to look the other in the eye as Severus slowly nodded and concluded, "Alright then," with a small shy smile of his own.

* * *

For Halloween, she'd practically begged Severus to dress up as Edgar Allan Poe as an accompaniment to the raven costume she'd been working on sewing for months, but he vehemently declined. When she completed it, she modeled it for him, looking so awkward it was almost adorable—with a black beak on her head and feathered wings on her sleeves, complete with a feathered tail and tiny claw embellishments on her feet. The lone costumed girl seemed to be the only student observing the holiday, although she went about her day per usual, skipping down the halls with her tail bouncing behind her, ignorant of the stares and quiet comments she received.

In that way, Severus wished he could be more like her, so trusting in the good of others she never even considered the negativity she received—it simply glanced off of her as she carried on her way. When he agreed to accompany her to Hogsmeade, he didn't anticipate an altercation, but with Vale, he could only trust in the absurd. When they came upon Claudius Crabbe and Grimar Goyle, he saw her eyes follow them as they darted into the woods, throwing furtive glances over their shoulders, and she insisted they follow them to see what mischief they'd chosen to partake on that most infamous night.

Severus urged her to let the issue be, but she refused and marched into the woods, leaving him to forgo or follow in her pursuit. Of course he couldn't allow her to enter the woods alone in pursuit of those two dunderheads, so with a heavy sigh, he ran to catch up to her. They hid among the trees, watching the duo build a bonfire, until he heard a quiet mewling. A small black kitten, tied to a tree, meowed in confusion, testing the limits of the leash and casting confused looks at his captors. It seemed Vale realized their intent just as Severus did, and she made a quick move from behind the tree before he grabbed her arm to hold her back.

"Vale, no," he whispered sternly. "Do not go near them. They're not above attacking a woman. Remember what they did to Mary Macdonald?" he hissed. A cloudy cast brooded in her gray eyes as she escaped his grasp with a mien of determination. Equally determined to keep her from harm, he followed her out of the trees to thwart the two hooded boys. She slipped behind the tree where the cat was leashed and untied the double-knot, freeing the animal—she gingerly picked him up and held him in the cradle of her arms, and seemingly sensing her kindness, he grew calm and purred and gnawed on the feathers of her costume.

Hopeful they could escape without the predicted confrontation, Severus grasped her wrist and held his fingers to his lips to shush her as they made their quiet escape, but the fateful snap of a branch alerted the boys to their presence. As they advanced on Vale, Severus threw himself in front of her, wand at the ready. When Claudius realized that Severus stood before him, his gut shook with his laughter; soon Grimar joined him, a little slow on the uptake, although Severus could still hear the confusion behind his guffawing.

"Severus, rescuing a little kitten, are you? You've gone barmy for this girl. I might too if I had her in my bed." Claudius's lip curled lasciviously.

"These pagan sacrifices are performed by uninformed muggles, who wrongly appropriate our rituals to use for their own ends. There is no magic, only cruelty and mutilating innocent things for pure sport, which I'm sure you two would find reason enough to do this," Severus scoffed, "But I won't allow it, and you two fools should be smarter than muggles who know nothing of the ways of our magic."

The two boys seemed unmoved by Severus's words, as they cracked their knuckles, posturing and pounding their fists against their hands. Somehow unaware of the advantages of magic, the two wizards had always demonstrated more brawn than brains.

"Maybe we'll waste you and take the pretty girl a little deeper into the woods for some real fun," Goyle threatened, taking a step towards Severus.

"I don't want to have to do this," Severus hissed, fearing social consequences, "But take another step and I'll have no choice."

Crabbe neglected to heed his advice, lunging at him and slamming him up against a tree, knocking the breath out of him. Vale fell to the ground, scrambling backward as she frantically searched her costume for her wand. Suddenly, Severus cried, "Sectumsempra!" with his wand trained on Crabbe, whose hot, rancid breath bore down on his face. The curse sent Crabbe flying backward, bowling over his friend, as invisible knives mercilessly slashed his skin, blood pooling on the leaves below. As Crabbe moaned in pain, Severus lifted the curse and helped Vale off the ground; she tucked the kitten in her shirt, her chin resting on his furry head. "Let's go," Severus panted, taking her hand and rushing out of the woods.

When they reached The Three Broomsticks, they took a seat at a table in a secluded corner. The barmaid approached and took their order for two butterbeer, soon returning with their drinks. "You were so brave, Severus," Vale gushed, kissing him on the cheek. He flashed her a fading smile as he considered the consequences of him cursing Goyle, although he'd done it in self-defense, certain his friends wouldn't understand his reasoning. Even though Lily thought he'd been ingrained with the Death Eaters, he'd truly only lurked on the periphery of the movement.

"What are you going to name it?" he asked, pointing at the sleeping cat now curled on her lap.

"Schrodinger," she answered slyly as she stroked the cat's back.

"Clever," he sniped, taking a sip of his beer. She shot him a feigned glare.

Lost in thought, he watched drops of condensation slide down his butterbeer bottle. With the stewing of the lacewings nearly complete, he knew he had to broach the topic with Vale soon, although he'd delayed that fun chat many times before. While Vale prattled on about the mysticism of cats, he blurted, "I need to ask you something."

She regarded him and his non sequitur with raised eyebrows. "Of course," she urged him to continue.

"Vale, I want to get over Lily, and I believe I've found a way to do so," he elaborated, his voice shaking with his nerves.

"I'm proud of you, Severus," she lauded, "I will help in any way I'm able."

"Have you ever heard of 'Polyjuice Potion'?" he asked carefully.

"Yes," she answered with a cant of her head.

"Well, I'm attempting to brew a small batch, and I was hoping you'd..." he trailed off, realizing the ridiculousness of his request as he forced himself to say it aloud, "Possibly acquire one of Lily's hairs. I have acquired one of Lucius's." Like anything with pure pedigree breeding, Lucius shed—it had been almost too easy to pluck a hair from his robes as he exited the great hall behind him.

As the implications of his offering slowly dawned upon her, her mouth fell open and her eyes widened with her understanding. "Are you suggesting…?" her words failed her, although he could easily fill in the blanks.

"Yes," he replied, looking down at his folded hands.

Once her shock faded, she took her nails to the corner of the butterbeer label, peeling bits of it off as she spoke, "Severus, if the integrity of a friendship rests on one word, no matter how ugly the word is, it must've been in critical condition prior to it. If this is about your guilt, you have nothing much to feel guilty over."

"It's not about guilt," he admitted quietly, "It's about getting to experience vicariously what I'll never have the chance to otherwise. And you as well, with Lucius."

She began to say something, before closing her mouth again—she seemed on the verge of some revelation, but she refrained and narrowed her eyes his way as she parsed over her words, "And you believe you really need this?"

In his shame, he couldn't meet her eyes, but he quietly affirmed, "Yes, I think so."

With a steely resolve in her eyes, Vale took a deep breath and clasped her hands together with a quiet clap, agreeing, "Okay, I'll do it."

Just then, the barmaid returned to the table to compliment Vale on her costume, bringing her a bag of "Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans" for her efforts.

"I never liked those. I like to know what something's going to taste like before I eat it," he commented, making a face.

"What's the fun in that?" Vale asked, popping one in her mouth.

* * *

As Severus stirred the cauldron four times clockwise and waved his wand, his hands began to shake in anticipation, so much so he had difficulty mulling the horn of Bicorn into a fine powder. Once he'd reached the final step, he pulled the vial containing one of Lily's hairs from his pocket and held it up to the light before taking a deep breath and dropping the hair into the mud-like substance bubbling in his cauldron. In twenty-four hours, the potion would be complete.

Waiting on tenterhooks for Vale to emerge as Lily, Severus paced the room. It felt like his entire life had culminated in this moment, where he would finally get to experience Lily in the flesh, albeit not in the way he'd expected. It seemed like Vale had been behind the door for an eternity, although he was well-aware of the elasticity of time in that moment. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before sighing and stretching back on her bed, staring at the starry ceiling, remembering its significance to the first night he spent with Vale. As a lover, she was stunning, a quick learner who knew his body better than he did; she knew how to put him over the edge with little effort, knew where and how he liked to be touched, and he'd managed to adapt too, although a slower learner in that regard, remembering with embarrassment his clumsiness during their first few intimate encounters.

Finally, she emerged from the bathroom in a blue satin robe, and he gaped at her as Lily. He quickly advanced on her, running his hands over her slight curves, breathing already labored, unable to contain his excitement or hide his rigid desire.

"She tasted minty," Vale remarked a little bashfully, in reference to the potion, her arms folded across her chest. Severus pried them away and held them at her sides before sliding his hand under the robe, his breath hitching in his throat. He looked into those shimmering emerald eyes, the eyes that, in his dreams, were heavy-lidded and wanting him, and he ran his fingers through her red hair and gripped it at the roots as he kissed her desperately and led her to the bed, where he stripped her of her robe, even as she clasped her arms to her chest again. As he kissed her, it seemed her lips were unyielding, although he attributed it to her getting used to occupying the body of someone else.

"Relax," he whispered silkily. "Thank you for doing this," he groaned as he ran his hands down her body, grinding instinctually against her hip. "Thank you, thank you. You're unbelievable."

Vale flashed him a weak smile and uncovered herself for him. He kissed Lily's supple stomach and gripped her breasts with needful knead-like motions, before slowly exploring her body, running his hands down her thighs and touching her in her most intimate place; he saw Vale's head drop back with a whimper, eyes closed emphatically in a way that could be mistaken for pain. With a low guttural groan, he entered her. "Oh, Lily," he whispered, his lips grazing her ear, "Oh, Lily, I've dreamt of this for so long."

He thrust into her heavily now, his strokes uneven as he panted and groaned and kissed her lips, tasting the mint she'd mentioned. He came with an unintelligible groan and a fervency never before expressed. He panted and looked into those captivating green eyes and kissed her like he'd never have another chance. When he nuzzled her cheek, he felt a wet sensation on his nose, and he looked up to see her crying, tears streaming down her face, attempting to stifle quiet sobs as she looked up at the ceiling beseechingly, eyes wide and pleading. When he moved off of her to give her some air, she rolled on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow with a loud, impassioned sob that wrenched his soul.

Completely bewildered, he stroked her back, "Vale, what's wrong? You were amazing. When I take on Lucius's persona, I will give you the same preferential treatment, I assure you," he said in attempt to comfort her.

"Severus," she hiccuped, looking up at him, "I lied. I don't like Lucius. I like you."


End file.
